


sad savior

by earthbending (hopeheavy)



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Endgame SDR2 Spoilers, Gen, M/M, SDR2 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeheavy/pseuds/earthbending
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Komaeda is the last to wake up, and thinks maybe it would be better if he hadn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sad savior

You’re too disoriented to think straight when you wake — to think about how strange it is that your eyes are opening at all (squinting against the glare of the lights above) and that you’re breathing and your heart is beating and you’re _alive_. Your mind feels oddly blank, full of long stretches of things you know you should remember, things that are important, but you feel heavy and lethargic, like you haven’t moved in a while, and when you try to think back you’re pulled away by a sharp pain in your temples. So, as unsettling as it is, you wait.

There is no one around you as far as you can tell; you don’t move, just lay quietly, concentrating on the rhythm of your breaths, listening to the steady beeping of… a heart monitor, it sounds like. The pieces come back little by little, disorganized, chaotic: Togami laying facedown in a pool of his own blood; a file - Hinata Hajime, reserve course; pulling a spear up, angling it, watching the tip glint wickedly; putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger, only to hear a sharp click; a girl with darkbright eyes and a Cheshire grin, too-red nails pressed against your cheek, purring  _"despair"_  into your ear.

It’s tempting to rip the wires away, stand up and leave… wherever this is, but you’re weak, can’t even fathom trying to sit up now, now that everything’s hit you and you’re wondering just why you’re here at all, because shouldn’t you be dead and gone?

So maybe they saved you, then. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed, a little disgusted.

Hinata is instantly recognizable when he walks in (but somehow different, more mature, maybe) and it’s clear how he pauses midstride, how his mouth gapes open, that seeing you conscious is a surprise. And you can’t bring yourself to smile, because this isn’t a happy occasion, despite the fact that he’s looking more relieved than perhaps he should; is Hinata really happy to see you, then? Funny, you never expected that — but then, he was always more affected by the deaths than even most of the others, you think, even if he wasn’t as vocal about it. You could tell in his silence, in the look about him, how devastated he was every single time. Strange as it is to think about, yours probably affected him as well.

You spare a thought to wonder if he mourned you.

But none of this makes sense, and you part your lips to ask him, but no sound comes out. 

"Hey," Hinata says, looking very kind and very firm and in-charge and perhaps a little anxious, too. “Give it a few minutes, okay? I know you’re…" He glances away, licks his lips (talentless or not, you ache to know what he’s thinking) before he sits in the chair nearest your bedside; puts his elbows on his knees, looks at you so earnestly you think you might be sick. “I know you’re probably really confused, so I’ll try to—"

You cut him off with your sleep-scratched voice, murmur the first question that comes to mind. "…Where is my arm?"

And he doesn’t miss a beat. “We removed Junko’s hand. I’m working on a prosthetic for you, but it’s not quite ready yet."

And you give a breath of laughter, you curl your lip, look at him like you’re not quite sure what kind of game he’s playing. You never really took him as the type to joke around like this. " _You’re_  working on it? Aha… I’m glad to know your sense of humor has improved, Hinata-kun, since I’ve been —"

Squint your eyes for a second, because this still isn’t adding up, none of this makes sense; you feel  _different_  and maybe they saved you but something is off, something is  _off_. He finishes your thoughts for you, and if your comment angered him, he doesn’t show it: "—dead?"

Alright, you’ll play along; it’s obvious he at least knows more than you do this time (you hate it, hate being left in the dark, hate not being able to figure anything out for yourself — hate having to ask  _him_ ) so you pull your lips closed and fix him with a frown; patient, verging on disdainful. He stares back for several beats, and you think: this is new, this Hinata that doesn’t let his temper get the better of him so easily, that waits and watches and you’ve seen this side of him before, but mainly in trials. Maybe he has changed, after all. Just how long has it been?

"It wasn’t real, Komaeda," he begins, and the corner of your mouth twists in false amusement (it’s that or anger, because your heart is beginning to pound and your head is hurting again) and he lifts his hands to get you to stop talking before you can even start. “I’m not joking. Just hear me out, alright?"

You let him speak without interruption, keep your eyes glued to your one whole hand, resting in your lap — keep quiet even when he tells you things you already know ("we had all fallen into despair") and plenty of things you don’t ("Nanami was the traitor; she wasn’t real either"; “it turns out I… was Kamukura Izuru"). Keep quiet after he’s done, but you pull yourself up and Hinata jumps from his seat, adjusts the pillows behind your back so that you can sit comfortably.

"Anyway, everyone else has been awake for… at least a few weeks now. We had you moved in here because… well, you required a little more help." 

Take your time, fiddle with the frayed edges of the blankets draped over you, count your breaths, count his breaths, organize your thoughts. You don’t even know what you’re thinking anymore, it’s almost too much to take in. Almost. Finally you turn to him, wear a smirk that’s a little less self-assured because you feel anything but right now. “It seems I was wrong about your talent, then. Instead of having none, you have them all. You really  _are_  something special… So I owe you an apology, don’t I?"

(And you want to wipe that humble look from his face when he starts to deny it, so you do.) “But no, that’s not right! You were  _manufactured_ , your talents were practically arranged on an assembly line. It’s unnatural… I told you before, didn’t I? The only ones capable of becoming the world’s hope are those who are  _born_  to do so! I wonder, Hinata-kun, when will you learn your place?"

His eyes slide closed and he breathes in deep — and when he opens them again you’re sure he’s going to leave like he always does when he gets irritated with you (feel a little twinge of regret because you don’t  _want_  him to go, at least not yet) but he stays. He stays, and you’re not really sure why.

"Komaeda," he murmurs, “I told you everything I know, so… answer something for me, okay?"

You tilt your head, watch — keep quiet.

"Why? Why all of it - setting up your own murder, that video? I don’t get any of it. It’s just too weird, even for you."

And you face back in front, run your hand along the blankets, smooth them out; you feel you can’t sit still for too long. It takes a while before you respond again. “I was really hoping you all would die." Hinata makes a sound at the back of his throat and you close your eyes, dip your head. “It’s what we deserve, isn’t it? To think the people I’d so idolized had been the very harbingers of despair… And  _me_ , too. I felt us irredeemable - I thought… because our memories had been stolen, perhaps that’s why we’d been fooled into thinking we were working towards hope, because we simply couldn’t remember how we’d all fallen under  _her_  influence."

_Her_. Enoshima Junko. You still can’t remember everything, but the bits and pieces are enough. Something coils at the center of your chest, blooms bright red and you vaguely recognize it as hatred.

You can feel something else flare when you look at Hinata, still red but a different shade, and not for the first time you acknowledge you’ve been staring for too long but don’t drop your gaze.

_But they’re working towards hope now_ , that’s what he’d said, and you can’t be certain if that’s something attainable for them (and you) or not. You can still feel where Junko had dug herself in, rooted there, where her sickness had spread (a different kind than your own) and who knows if you’ll ever really be free from it?

"I thought in some way, maybe, it would be rectified — by my death, all our deaths. And that by bringing that justice about, perhaps I’d be worthy of the title ‘Super High-School Level Hope’… but I was deluding myself. I didn’t even succeed, and even if I had…"

You shake your head, drop off. Even if you had, you were never meant for that; even if you had, you’d ruined it the first time she’d sung sweetly in your ear and you’d opened up and listened.

"No, I don’t think that’s true." 

Hinata is looking at you, leaning forward; his hand is gripping your upper arm and you almost flinch away from the contact — glance down at where your hand should be ( _her_  hand) and trace over the wrapped stump instead and wonder how he can stand to touch — but you stay, and you peer back at him. He’s intense, brows drawn, eyes hard and glinting. You want to sink into that look and stay there, where nothing else can reach you.

"Komaeda… no one believes in hope as much as you do. I’ve never - uh, never really understood how you viewed it, exactly, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was always obvious how much you loved it. And I know you don’t care, but I think if anyone should be called Super High-School Level Hope, it’s you."

You watch him silently for a few moments, and then you cough, something hitches, you look away. 

"I was angry with you for a long time… I couldn’t believe the things you did, the things you’d tried to do, but you just wanted to do the right thing. What you thought was the right thing." Of course, you know he thinks you misguided; it hangs in the air between you, and you don’t rebuke it.

He still has his hand on your arm.

"I’m glad you woke up, Komaeda. I… never wanted you to die."

Then he’s leaving, and your arm feels cold without his touch, and you bite at your bottom lip after he’s disappeared through the doorway. You consider doing many things — calling for him, getting up and running after him yourself, maybe ripping out these wires and hoping you’ll die before anyone notices because you’re still not really convinced you deserve to be here, deserve to have a second chance.

In the end you lay back, close your eyes, and go to sleep.

The next morning when you wake up and Hinata is there in front of you, lips lifted hesitantly,

you smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> ok wow this is nerve-wracking but i got a request on tumblr for a komaeda waking up post-end of sdr2 drabble and it turned out pretty long so!! i figured i'd put it on here y ah sorry if there's anything that contradicts canon or anything that doesn't make sense? and second... person... third just wasn't working out for me this time but ok im just gonna stop rambling tha nk you if you take the time to read this ok ok. xoxo


End file.
